here’s a beautiful analogy I heard recently that’s stayed with me ever since. It came from Gable House Nursery, and it goes like this:
Every child has a bank.
As early years educators, we are responsible for filling it — with moments, memories, first experiences, and feelings that will shape their inner world for the rest of their lives.
And when I heard that, I thought: Yes. That’s it. That’s exactly what we do.
We may not always realise it in the rush of routines or the mess of muddy wellies — but every time we kneel down to listen, every time we sit beside a child in their joy or frustration, every time we make space for their questions, their wonder, their play — we are making a deposit.
And these deposits matter. Because one day, when that child grows up and the world feels hard or uncertain, they’ll have something to draw on. A sense of worth. A memory of being loved. An instinct that tells them: You are seen. You are safe. You are enough.
That’s the kind of investment we’re making.
And perhaps more than ever, our world needs that.
It needs children who grow up feeling emotionally full — so they don’t spend adulthood searching for what they never received. It needs children who’ve known kindness, patience and acceptance — so they can carry those things forward into their relationships, communities, and choices.
Because when we fill a child’s bank, we’re not just shaping one little life — we’re shaping the future.
But it’s not just about emotional deposits. It’s also about broadening their world — offering children meaningful experiences that build their sense of identity, connection, and possibility.
This is the heart of cultural capital — those precious moments and encounters that help children make sense of the world around them, feel part of something bigger, and grow into themselves with confidence.
So how do we do that? How do we fill these invisible banks in ways that truly last?
These do not always need to be found in grand gestures or expensive outings.
But with the tiny, ordinary, everyday things — and by offering children experiences they may never have had the chance to encounter before:
• The thrill of splashing in a muddy puddle for the very first time.
• The wonder of holding a snail, planting a seed, or mixing a cake from scratch.
• The discovery of new words, new stories, new rhythms — shared across cultures and generations.
• The joy of belonging — of being part of a celebration, a tradition, a shared moment of meaning.
These are powerful forms of cultural capital — experiences that enrich, connect, and help children feel rooted in both who they are and who they’re becoming.
They may also be found in those moments of connection, those moments that you show a child they truly matter, how much you care, and how special they are:
• The warm eye contact when they tell a story.
• The unhurried time spent spotting worms or clouds.
• The quiet “I see you” in moments of struggle.
• The comfort of routines, the spark of curiosity, the laughter that bubbles up mid-play.
• The way we believe in them — even when they’re still learning how to believe in themselves.
These are also the real riches of childhood.
These are the moments that stay.
We may never see the full impact of our work — not in certificates, not in test scores.
But we see it in their joy, their growth, and the beautiful, kind-hearted humans they are becoming.
So to all of you who show up for children — educators, childminders, parents, grandparents, key workers and co-regulators — thank you.
Thank you for every tiny deposit. For every ounce of emotional labour. For every patient pause and playful invitation.
You are building a kinder world.
One connection, one moment, one full little bank at a time.
Guiding The Young Ones 
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